


The Deal

by ZombieBirb



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: ? - Freeform, Aphrodisiacs, Egg Laying, Eggpreg, Extremely Dubious Consent, Lance gets tentacle fucked, Other, Oviposition, Tentacle Rape, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Verbal Humiliation, Voyeurism, and he doesn't want it, first time writing porn orz, pretty much non con really, this is barely proofread
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 03:04:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12949920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZombieBirb/pseuds/ZombieBirb
Summary: Lance is too giving for his own good. When he's backed into a corner, he finds himself in a situation he never wanted to be in.





	The Deal

“And I’m Lance, the coolest Paladin,” Lance finished with a dazzling smile while Pidge shot him a dirty look from across the room. The alien he was talking to, Ilric, smiled at him, inclining their head while their bulbous, goat-like eyes fixed on Lance.

“It is a pleasure to meet one of the Paladins of Voltron,” they burbled, lips flapping out as they spoke. Lance grinned, shot them finger guns.

“You bet it is,” he teased, “I’m a rare treat.”

Instead of laughing, Ilric fixed him with an intense gaze. “You certainly are,” they agreed slowly.

All of a sudden uncomfortable, Lance brushed it off with a nervous laugh. “Y-Yeah well. I gotta go check in with the team. See ya around Ilric.”

Ilric merely nodded, not moving their gaze from Lance, and so Lance was forced to walk away with the uncomfortable feeling of being watched tickling at his shoulder blades. He quickly made his way over to Keith, who gave him a disdainful frown.

“Have you been drinking?” He asked.

Lance frowned at the judgmental tone. “Dude, you don’t understand,” he complained, “I love talking to people and all, but this is _exhausting_.” Three straight days of this damn party their host had decided to throw them to decide if they wanted to be part of the Voltron coalition. There were so many people, and Allura expected him to liaise with all of them! He said as much to Keith.

“I don’t think telling them how great you are is what she had in mind,” was the dry response. Lance scoffed.

“What do you know Mullet?” He replied. “All you have to do is stand here and brood and they all flock to you. If _I_ just stood in a corner they probably wouldn’t even notice me!” He threw his hands up in the air to convey his frustration, and Keith laughed at him.

“Well, whatever you said seems to have worked with that one. No chance of them not noticing you now,” Keith said, nodding his head in the direction Lance had just come from. Turning, Lance saw Ilric talking to several more of the squiggly aliens and gesturing in their direction.

The uncomfortable feeling lashed him again, but he beat it down with a practiced smile. “That’s the Lancey Lance charm for you,” he told Keith, who rolled his eyes with a good natured scoff.

“Well go and charm the pants off these allies then, keep us in their good graces,” he replied, leaning back against the wall. Lance pouted, but complied and made his way back into the throng of aliens.

 

 

Lance let out a moan of relief, sinking gratefully into the seat between Hunk and Pidge. “I never thought that I’d actually get tired of _talking to people_ ,” he complained. Hunk let out a chuckle and patted him on the back.

Pidge snorted. “You mean _you_ got tired of talking?” she ribbed.

Lance affected a pout. “I know right? Guess I’m out of practice. That’s what I get for living with people who’d rather talk to computers than other people,” he replied, and got an elbow to the side for his trouble.

“Shut it you,” she laughed back at him.

On his other side, Hunk also laughed. “You did a good job today though,” he said sincerely, when the laughter had died down. Pidge sobered up as well.

“Oh yeah,” she agreed. “You charmed the pants off of that Grand Elder Ilric. Allura was shitting bricks after talking to them earlier and I couldn’t get a single smile out of them. I don’t know how you did it.”

Lance froze, goblet of some alien drink halfway to his lips. “Wait, Ilric was the Elder?” He asked, suddenly panicking.

Pidge stared at him, wide-eyed, before letting out a loud groan and slumping back in her seat, burying her face in her hands. “Oh my god Lance, you’re lucky they liked you,” her muffled voice told him.

Lance turned to Hunk pleadingly. “They’re not the Elder are they? Quiznack, I was so… so not formal! Allura’s going to kill me!”

Hunk gave him a sheepish smile. “Actually they are,” he said, hunching his shoulders up in a shrug. “But I don’t think Allura’s going to kill you bro, they seemed to really like you. You’re lucky they weren’t the off-with-your-head type though.”

Before Lance could come up with an answer to that, the dining hall fell silent. He looked around, following the other swiveling heads to see Grand Elder Ilric themself sliding into the room.

Ilric’s head swiveled, their eyes immediately finding Lance and fixing on him. He gave a small, nervous smile and wave. Ilric stared, then inclined their head just as a jostle to his shoulder alerted Lance to the fact that everyone at the table had bowed their head and was staring respectfully down.

Startled, he dropped his gaze as well, staring nervously at his plate. The procession passed by, heavy cloths and slimy limbs swishing through his peripherals. He fought down a shiver as the sensation of being watched didn’t leave him.

Ilric took a place at the head of the table that the Paladins were seated at, their aides sitting to their left side and the Paladins down the right. Lance looked up, finding the alien across from him watching him curiously. Catching his gaze, the alien inclined their head slightly. “Greetings. I am called Silaa,” they said.

“Nice to meet you. My name is Lance,” he replied with a smile.

“I know,” Silaa answered

Lance paused, blinked, discomfort rising again as he glanced at Ilric and saw their eyes skating away. He looked back to Silaa, who watched him patiently. He smiled, sent them finger guns. “Ah of course you’ve heard of me,” he said with a smirk, “being the coolest, most handsome Paladin and all.”

Silaa stared at him for a moment, blinking, before letting out a warbling laugh. “I like you Paladin Lance,” they said. Lance beamed. He didn’t notice the bulbous eyes watching him from the head of the table.

 

 

“Lance.”

He turned his head at the call of his name, smiling when he saw Allura walking into the suite that the Paladins had been given.

“What’s up Princess?” He asked, shifting his feet from where they were resting across Hunk’s lap and sitting up straight.

“Grand Elder Ilric has asked that you meet with them. They wish to discuss something with you,” she answered.

Lance tensed at mention of the Elder. Beside him, Hunk shifted uncomfortably.

“Do you know what they want?” Lance asked, fingers picking at the heavy embroidered fabric of the clothes they had been given.

Allura shook her head, her face drawn and tired-looking. “I’m afraid not. However, you seem to be the only one that has made a favourable impression on them. You are our best hope for securing this alliance.”

Lance preened at the praise, leaning back and flicking at his short bangs. “The Great Lancey Lance to the rescue again,” he bragged.

Allura smiled and shook her head fondly. “Indeed,” she agreed. “But Lance, I must reiterate. The Kiyri are rich in resources and have a formidable military. Such an alliance would be a great help to our cause.” She sent him a pleading look. “So please do your best. We are all counting on you.”

“No pressure huh?” he asked, before jokingly sending her a salute. “Not to worry Princess, Lance is your man. I won’t let you down.”

She smiled at him gratefully, her shoulders seeming to droop in relief. “Thank you Lance,” she said honestly.

“Anytime,” he replied, getting to his feet. He took a moment to straighten the robe-like garments they’d been gifted with before heading out to the hall.

Just as he reached the door, a hand caught his wrist. He turned to see Hunk, giving him an unreadable look.

“Are you sure about this Lance?” His friend asked worriedly. “Because I saw the way that that Ilric was looking at you throughout dinner. Frankly, it made me uncomfortable.”

“Psh, I’ll be fine, everybody just loves Loverboy Lance,” he dismissed the worry with a wave of his hand, forcing down his own misgivings as well as Hunk’s.

Hunk didn’t buy it. “Lance,” he said in a warning tone.

Lance’s shoulders dropped, then hunched. “Okay okay, fine. Ilric freaks me out okay. They give me the heebie jeebies. But you heard Allura! This is an _important_ alliance. I can’t throw it away because they look at me too much!”

Hunk’s brows furrowed. “I don’t like it,” he said again. “I should come with.”

“I know,” Lance answered, “but you can’t do that. They asked to see me. It could be an insult. It could jeopardize the alliance.”

A moment of silence. Then: “Fine. But promise me you’ll be careful Lance. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it buddy,” Lance replied with a smirk. At Hunk’s disbelieving look he sighed. “Okay, I promise I’ll be careful and won’t do anything stupid.”

That got him a smile. “Alright then. If you’re not back in a few varga I’m going to come get you.”

“Thanks mum,” Lance said with a role of his eyes. He ignored Hunk’s squawk of protest, waving goodbye to his friend as he walked through the door.

 

Silaa waited on the other side, a few paces down the hall. Their large eyes flicked to Lance immediately, and they slid forward to greet him.

“Paladin Lance,” they burbled, wrapping a tentacle around his hand in greeting. Lance tried not to grimace at the slime and instead gave a quick squeeze in return.

“Hello again Silaa,” he said, a real smile flashing across his face. Throughout supper, he and Silaa had become fast friends and the alien’s willingness to further a joke had had him cracking up into helpless peals of laughter on multiple occasions.

They were strangely sober now, however, as they led him to the Grand Elder’s quarters. The journey was passed mostly in silence, the few interruptions being Lance asking a question and Silaa’s answer.

As they reached a grand pair of carved stone doors, Silaa paused and turned to him. “I am glad that we have met Paladin Lance,” they said. “I believe that you will be good for the Kiyri.”

Before Lance could ask what that meant, they were pushing the door open.

“I have brought them, Grand Elder,” They said, lowering their head in deference. Lance remembered to as well this time, following Silaa in while gazing at his feet.

“Excellent,” he heard Ilric burble. “Come closer little one.”

Lance bristled at the name, but stepped forward and looked up to see Ilric gazing at him intently. The room that they were in was dark, but for the dim lights that were all the Kiyri needed to see by. All Lance could make out was Ilric’s robe-covered form and the stone seat on which they sat.

“It is nice to see you again Grand Elder,” he said politely. Ilric tutted.

“Playing at formality now, Paladin?” They asked.

Lance stiffened, feeling his blood drain. “Ah, I- I’m sorry,” he stammered, “I didn’t realise who I was speaking to the first time we –”

“Ah!” Ilric held up a tentacle, cutting him off. “Do not fret little one. I am not upset. On the contrary, I rather liked it.” Ilric burbled. “It showed…spirit.”

“Right,” Lance replied under his breath, unsure what to make of this. Ilric beckoned him closer again, and so he took another step forward, and then another so that he stood right before the large alien.

Ilric gazed at him intently. “You have an exceptionally rare spirit,” they said softly, a tentacle coming up to cradle Lance’s cheek. He tensed at the touch, alarm bells going off, but his step back was blocked by another body – Silaa – standing directly behind him and blocking him in.

Ilric seemed not to notice his discomfort, another tentacle coming up to stroke Lance’s other cheek. “Yes, very rare. Fun and Friendly. Brave. Loyal. _Free_.” They made a pleased burbling noise, a tentacle tickling at Lance’s neck as it tilted his head up.

“And your species is so very pleasing to look at.” Lance felt chills run through him at that. Luckily Ilric’s tentacles retreated, and he relaxed just a bit. Ilric seemed saddened now, their bubbly tone becoming quieter, more resonant.

“It is a shame that Kiyri may not form bonds outside of our own species. You would have made a most excellent second. Still, I believe that young incubated within one with such a spirit would grow to be most astonishing indeed.”

“What?” Lance yelped, trying again to back out of Ilric’s reach. Silaa caught him, slimy tentacles coming up to clasp about his forearms and hold him in place. His pleading look didn’t sway them, so he turned back to Ilric, eyes wide with fear. “What’s going on here?”

“I would like to couple with you,” stated Ilric plainly, “and deposit in you my eggs, which you will then incubate as they grow until they are ready to be birthed.”

“What?” Lance repeated, his voice soft and bewildered as his brain struggled to catch up. Was this… this alien seriously asking to fuck him? And stuff him full of eggs? No. No way. No how. “No!”

Ilric simply blinked at the vehement denial. “Very well,” they burbled. “In that case, this alliance is over. We will see the Paladins back to their ship come daybreak.” They waved a tentacle in dismissal, and Silaa began escorting Lance back toward the door.

“What? No!” He objected, twisting around to look at the Grand Elder again. “Wait, please, you don’t understand! It’s only a matter of time before the Galra come here too, and you can’t fight them off on your own. We can help you, please!”

Silaa paused, allowing Lance to turn to Ilric, who gazed at him unblinkingly. “If you want the alliance,” they said slowly, “you will agree to my proposal.”

Lance froze. “No,” he denied automatically. Ilric made a disappointed sounding bubbling noise and gestured for Silaa to see him out again.

Lance resisted their ushering as best he could, trying desperately to talk some reason into Ilric. But the Grand Elder didn’t budge, and it wasn’t long before they were at the door.

Frustrated tears welled in Lance’s eyes as he thought of how this whole mission had been for naught. How the three days of Allura barely sleeping, stressed out and working herself to the bone, had been for naught. Three days of Coran and Shiro planning distribution and logistics based on the fruits of this alliance that they would never use. Three days, which they could have used in the fight or gathering resources but instead had been gambled here – all thrown away.

_I’m sorry Hunk,_ he thought inwardly. _I guess I’m going to do something stupid after all_.

And as Silaa opened the door and tried to nudge him through, he spoke out. “Wait.” Silaa paused again, turned back to him. “I’ll do it.”

 

A bubbling noise sounded behind him. “Wonderful,” came Ilric’s voice. He turned slowly to face them, finding them watching him again. “Loyalty. I knew that you would not disappoint.”

Behind him, Lance heard the door closing, his heart dropping with the ominous finality of it. Silaa’s tentacle came up to his back, urging him forward once again. Ilric watched him unblinkingly as he moved toward them.

A tentacle reached out toward him as he drew within range, cupping his cheek again. “Beautiful,” said Ilric, running the tip of the tentacle across his lips. Tears welled up in his eyes as another tentacle curled around the back of his head, drew him in closer. “You are indeed a rare treat,” they warbled in a sinisterly pleased tone. Lance flinched as his earlier words were thrown back at him.  He dropped his eyes, unwilling to look at Ilric a moment longer.

“Silaa,” said Ilric, and Lance felt tentacles curling around from behind him. They moved swiftly and efficiently down his front, undoing the stone and wood clasps the held his robe together. They slid the garment from his shoulders, letting it fall into a pool at his feet, and a mix of cool air and fear raised goosebumps across Lance’s skin.

“Beautiful,” Ilric repeated. More tentacles came forward, running up and down Lance’s sides. Several wound around his back and pulled him in, a slimy facsimile of a hug. Lance let out a small whimper, hands coming up automatically to try and push them away. He forcibly stilled the movement, closing his eyes as a chuckle sounded above him.

“Come little one,” Ilric said, drawing back. “We will move to a less inconvenient area. I would not wish you uncomfortable while you took my eggs.”

Lance couldn’t help let out a sob. Uncomfortable. He was so far past uncomfortable it was laughable. He wanted to cry as Ilric led him around, behind their throne to where a door sat in the shadows of the room. He was gently ushered through into a new room, illuminated dully by the same dim lights that had lit the previous one. The room was large and round, and dipped toward a slime pool set in the middle. This room was colder than the last, and Lance was openly shivering in his nudity now.

Ilric noticed, and their cool tentacles came up to hold his arms. “Why do you shake little one?” They asked. Lance shook his head, unwilling to say anything lest he start crying. Ilric made a burbling noise, and then Lance drew in a surprised breath as he was suddenly being lifted at the back of his shoulders and behind his knees.

He was carried further into their room, before Ilric paused. They looked down at the slime pool, then turned their head back. “Silaa,” they said, “please bring us some human comfort items.” They then reached two tentacles into the slime pool and drew up two stone doors that closed like a trapdoor and latched, covering the pool.

“I think that you would not find our sleeping pools comfortable,” Ilric said. They were staring down at Lance again, tracing his bare chest with their eyes. Lance hugged his arms to himself, hiding it from view.

The sound of the door had them turning. Silaa entered the room, a plethora of cushions and blankets collected in their many tentacles. They draped one blanket over the damp trapdoor, and then set about creating a soft cushion nest in the dipped center of the room.

Lance watched them work, a pit in his stomach. He couldn’t help but think that in any other situation, he would have loved the pile of softness slowly forming. For some reason, that thought made him want to cry even more.

Ilric made a pleased sound as Silaa slid a pace back, approaching the fluffy nest and gently lowering Lance into it. A tentacle lifted Lance’s chin, and he averted his eyes in shame as it traced down his tear-streaked cheek.

“Gorgeous,” Ilric praised, and another sob hiccoughed out of Lance. Two tentacles gripped around his shoulders and thighs, gentle but unyielding as they lowered him down to his back. He tensed, glaring up at the slimy alien above him as Ilric ogled him openly.

Tentacles nudged at his inner thighs, parting his legs and slithering up to his briefs. They rubbed over his soft cock, drawing a gasp from Lance. His legs automatically tried to pull together, but more tentacles caught his ankles and held them still with horrifying ease.

Unable to budge against the unnaturally strong tentacles, Lance instead closed his eyes and tried to pretend that he wasn’t here, that this wasn’t happening. Then a tentacle crept beneath his boxers and started drawing them down.

“Don’t,” he whimpered, eyes flying open once again. Ilric paused, their eyes narrowing at Lance.

“Do you wish to refuse my offer, Paladin Lance?” They asked. Lance froze, staring into the alien gaze Ilric bore on him.

He saw no mercy, no compassion. Just pitiless expectation. Lance closed his eyes again, more tears leaking through, and bowed his neck.

“N-No Elder,” he whispered, and Ilric made another pleased burble. Lance felt his underwear being drawn away, and then Ilric was leaning in close.

A tentacle touched at his soft dick at the same time as that hated voice spoke in his ear. “I am going to enjoy this,” they said, and Lance gasped as the tentacle wrapped around his penis firmly.

Ilric cooed at him, more tentacles coming up to smooth over his body, exploring. Lance trembled, clenching his fist around the fabric cover of a cushion and biting back a whimper.

Tentacles were everywhere, tracing his stomach, rubbing his nipples, pushing through his hair. One rubbed lightly at his neck, where the tension from his clenched jaw made tendons stand out. Another curled loosely around his waist, a slimy unwanted sash.

He arched his back away from where it coiled under him, whining low in his throat. Ilric made a strange burble above him, and he opened his eyes to see alien eyes watching him rapturously. Disgust and fear coiled in his gut, a potent mix that had him turning his face away and clenching his eyes once more.

Ilric didn’t like that apparently. The tentacle in his hair slid down and slithered beneath his cheek, turning his head gently back so his face was toward the ceiling once more. Then it slid down and nudged at his lips insistently, parting them easily and shoving fruitlessly against his locked teeth.

It rankled Lance that his minor resistance seemed not to bother Ilric. Instead, the alien seemed almost amused, letting out a bubbling sound and withdrawing the tentacle to pat his hair the way his mother might have done. He tried to recoil, but then the one still around his cock squeezed painfully, and Ilric took advantage of Lance’s gasp to plunge the tentacle back into his mouth.

He whined in protest, his hands coming up automatically to grab it. He tried to tug on it, but it was too slippery to hold. Ilric didn’t hesitate, feeding the tentacle deeper and deeper down his throat. Lance gagged as it fucked into his mouth, his fingers scrabbling at the limb fruitlessly. Tears were streaking down his cheeks again, and more tentacles were there a moment later to wipe them away.

The tentacle in his mouth got thicker as it got closer to Ilric’s body, and it slowed down now as it encountered more resistance from his strained throat.

 The tentacle that had been at his neck slid away, moving slowly up until it encountered his ears. It circled and rubbed at them, dipping into the outer shell once and Lance thought for a horrible moment that it was going to shove in. Then it drew away, exploring across his face and head. It stopped again at his nose, rubbing against the tip for a few moments before slipping down.

He tensed as it paused just under his nose, wondering if Ilric was going to stop him from breathing completely. His throat worked as he swallowed in fear and tried to push out a protest on a tongue that was pinned down. Thankfully, the tentacle pulled away a moment later and slithered down his body again. It passed by the tentacles at his nipples and joined the one on his cock, circling the slit. Lance panicked, thrashing, as it shoved against it. He gagged more on the tentacle in his mouth, and more tears streaked down his face as he tried desperately to free his hands, to shove away the tentacle still shoving painfully at the head of his cock.

Luckily, it seemed to get the message and moved away. Or perhaps it realised that it was too big to get anywhere there. Lance wasn’t sure of much beyond his pounding head and aching throat, and he certainly had no idea of Ilric’s reasoning for any of this.

His hoarse screaming calmed down to little whimpers as it slid away down his legs instead, rubbing slime all over them. Another tentacle came up stroked through his hair soothingly, and Lance leant into the touch before he could stop himself. He pulled away a tic later, hating himself for his weakness in the face of a tiny comfort that had been offered by his attacker.

The tentacle was at his feet now, rubbing along them and tickling him horribly. He tried not to laugh, his throat already hurting, but it was a lost battle. It bubbled up against his will, spilling out around the tentacle in little helpless giggles. His body jerked, trying to pull away from the sensation, and Ilric held him down more firmly. The tentacles squeezed him so tightly he thought that he felt the ache in his bones.

But the worst part was breathing. It had been difficult enough, pulling in air around the huge tentacle currently fucking his face. Now that he was heaving with helpless laughter, unable to control himself, it was nigh impossible. His hands, still wrapped loosely around the slick limb, tried to pull again to no avail. His head was swimming, pain, fear, arousal, and that infuriating tickling sensation swirling around and fucking with his perception. He still wasn’t getting enough air, and he wondered absently if he was going to die here under some random alien.

Then, blessedly, the tickling stopped. The tentacle at his feet moved away and up again, rubbing against the back of his calves slowly. He lost some time while he caught his breath, but when he was finally aware again he realised that more tentacles had come up to his body, and were currently looping around him.

Several wound around his waist, hips, and upper thighs, raising his waist gently from the pillows. The tentacle still climbing his body dipped into the space between his thighs, teasing his testicles and causing him to gasp and choke on the tentacle in his mouth. Pleasure was tingling through his nerves, and it made him shudder with disgust.

Then the tentacle dipped lower, and he squirmed in horror as it ghosted across his hole. Ilric paused, making a pleased sound, and then the tentacle was back, circling and massaging at his opening.

He opened his eyes to meet Ilric’s gaze pleadingly, trying to convey through teary eyes that he didn’t want this. Ilric didn’t notice, their eyes fixed on where their tentacles were pulling Lance’s legs up toward his face, baring his ass and the tentacles massaging it to their scrutiny. The satisfied look in their eyes made Lance sob in denial.

Ilric met his eyes then, as their tentacle nudged more insistently at Lance’s hole. They pushed in, rough and sudden, and their bulbous mouth curved in pleasure he cried out in pain. They leaned up to kiss at his cheeks, where tears were running liberally, and then licked them up with a wide, flat tongue. Lance shied away in disgust, and Ilric chuckled once again.

“You complain so, little Blue, yet I have done nothing that you did not choose,” they said.  Lance tried to shake his head; he didn’t want this, he was doing it for Voltron! But the tentacles at his cheeks and hair held firmly, and then the ones in his mouth and ass started a brutally fast pace, plunging in and out with careless abandon.

Lance whined as the tentacle on his dick tightened slightly and then began stroking up and down in tandem with Ilric’s thrusting. Pleasure was jumping through his veins even as pain tore them apart, and the opposing sensations made him shiver. Tears sprung to his eyes, and Ilric made that pleased cooing sound again.

“Your eyes look beautiful like this,” they commented, leaning in closer to get a better look. Their face came right up to Lance’s, the details blurred by his tears. He could see their pitiless, lustful eyes though. It was a sight that he knew would haunt him.

The tentacle in his ass gave a particularly brutal shove and the one on his cock squeezed mercilessly, causing him to throw back his head and moan lowly. Ilric watched him hungrily, eyes shining as they began thrusting their limbs into him with more vigour. Lance wanted to beg them to stop, to take it back, but he couldn’t speak around the tentacle invading his throat.

Suddenly, more were winding around him and pulling him up until he was flush against Ilric. He shuddered at the cold slime that seemed to be enveloping him, trying to hold in the tears. “I will remember this night for eons,” Ilric whispered to him, and Lance lost the battle. Tears flowed down his cheeks as they cooed and licked at them again. He made soft moans of protest, but they paid them no heed.

Then more tentacles were nudging at his ass. Lance froze, and then started thrashing in protest. Ilric simply chuckled in amusement. “The ovipositor is much larger than this, little one,” they said, and Lance stared at them in horror. How much larger? The stretch was already on the edge of being too painful.

Ilric merely smiled and started shoving first one, then two more tentacles into his ass. He cried out in pain, and they seemed to shudder in pleasure at it.

“Your kind are very vocal during coupling little one,” Ilric said thoughtfully as they continued ripping Lance apart. “I find it… compelling.” The last word was accompanied by yet another lusty grin and a particularly hard thrust that found all four tentacles slamming into Lance in unison.

He couldn’t hold in his pained cry, and he hated himself for it. Ilric ran a tentacle through his hair once more.

“It truly is a pity that we may not form bonds with another species. I would very much like to have you for my own,” they said regretfully. Lance groaned low in his throat, his head swimming with pain, disgust, and arousal.

Ilric stroked at his aching cock curiously. A tentacle swiped off some of the pre-cum dribbling off, and Lance watched in horror as they brought it up to their mouth and licked it off. They pulled a face.

“Ah well, I suppose that was too much to expect,” they mused in a tone that one might use to comment upon the weather. Lance wondered how this could mean so little to them. How they could look down at him so calmly while their tentacles slammed so deeply into him that he was sure if he looked down he would see them moving in his stomach.

He clenched his eyes shut again. He didn’t know how he was supposed to face the team after this.

The tentacles around him shifted, and he was pulled back from the almost-hugging position he’d been held in and lowered back to the cushions. Tentacles kept his legs up as those in his ass continued to pound him mercilessly, their pace thankfully not quite matched by the one in his throat.

Now that he was no longer in close contact with the bulk of Ilric’s body, the slime that had rubbed off on him and the chill of the room took its toll. He felt his body shaking, even with the heat generated from the brutal fucking he was receiving.

 “Silaa, look at them,” Ilric said suddenly, “Is this not a most wondrous sight?”

The slick swishing of Silaa moving closer reached his ears and Lance’s gut twisted. He had forgotten that they weren’t alone, and the knowledge that he was being watched made this ordeal suddenly ten times worse. Shame at his hard cock choked him. He tried again to pull free of the tentacles binding him, but he may as well not have moved at all. They didn’t budge.

A new tentacle came up to curl in his hair and pull his head cruelly back. His eyes sprang open, tears already leaking from them, as he let out muffled protests around the tentacle fucking his throat. Silaa was there, holding Lance’s head back by the hair and looking at him with clear lust.

“They are quite striking when coupling,” they agreed, watching hungrily where Ilric’s tentacles plowed into Lance’s unwilling body. He shook like a leaf in their hold, unable to tell any longer what he was trembling from.

Thankfully, Silaa relinquished their punishing grip on his hair, letting him relax his throat as his head fell into a more natural position. Ilric took that moment to shove the tentacle in his mouth in even further, and Lance’s eyes widened in panic as it bullied its way further into his resistant throat.

A flash of pink rippled through Ilric’s gooey flesh, and then he felt fluid suddenly gushing out of the tentacles. It flowed into his gut as all of the tentacles in his ass released as once, and he was forced to swallow down more from the one that was now blissfully receding from his throat.

The tentacles holding him down also released, covering his body with a thin pink fluid. A tingling sensation spread across his skin, and then deep pleasure and arousal suddenly sparked from his abdomen to fill the rest of his body. He arched with a wordless cry and came, his seed mixing into the mess of slime and alien cum covering his belly.

His body didn’t relax after the orgasm, and Lance wanted to cry as the tight, needy feeling still held prominence. He felt too hot, and every twitch of the spent tentacles inside him sent desire tearing through his veins. But he didn’t want this. He knew that much clearly, despite how his body disagreed.  He wanted nothing more than to get away from this, to crawl away into a corner and die, but still his cock strained with need.

Ilric chuckled at his distressed whines and pulled back, their tentacles pulling out of Lance unceremoniously. They lifted Lance’s ankles, pulling them upward until he was bent uncomfortably with his ass in the air, Ilric’s cum unable to spill out from inside him any longer.

Lance groaned, a feeling of emptiness stealing through him that made him want to beg for something to fill his hole, even as he revolted at the idea. His body didn’t care what he wanted though; the emptiness and neediness only grew, until whimpers were escaping unbidden from his mouth.

“Do not worry little one,” cooed Ilric, “I will give you what you need.” They moved behind Lance, lowering his ass until something thicker and stiffer than the tentacles was poking at his hole.

He stiffened in fear at the size of it, and shook his head viciously. “No, please,” he gasped, but Ilric seemed beyond hearing him now. The new limb started pushing forward slowly, shoving pitilessly against his resisting rim and making him cry out in fear.

Then it popped through, and the shock of pain was accompanied by a wash of pleasure from his traitorous body. He felt it moving into him steadily, rocking a few times before pushing forward. Each inch it moved in chased away some of the emptiness it had been feeling, and his body rejoiced even as his brain hated and rejected it.

Tentacles were back at his cock, stroking roughly and causing him to arch up into the tight, slimy grip. Somewhere above him, one of the aliens chuckled, and then the _thing_ in his ass shoved in harshly. A choked gasp left him, and he writhed in his bindings. Pleasure was singing through his veins now, his body feeling elated as though this were where he was meant to be. His muddled mind rejected it, but was helpless to do anything but watch while his body enjoyed what was happening to it.

The limb in his ass rocked a few more times, pushing in further with each stroke. It must have been in his gut by the time it stopped. He shuddered at the thought of the bulge this one must cause.

Then something even thicker was pushing against his hole and he panicked. The eggs, this must be the eggs. He somehow found strength in his lackadaisical limbs and pulled against the tentacles holding them, struggling and writhing for all he was worth.

It didn’t get him anything but an impatient sigh from Ilric. More tentacles moved to pin his body down, and then some were parting his jaw roughly. He keened in fear, trying to turn his head away but tentacles held both sides of his face in an iron grip and forced him to face the one coming toward his mouth. It was still slick with alien cum, and Ilric shoved it unceremoniously into his mouth and down his throat.

He choked at the sudden intrusion, but the tentacle didn’t falter. It pushed in further and further, and then another gush of fluid left it and flowed into him.

Immediately, his limbs loosened, a feeling of pleasure so intense that Lance thought that he might lose his mind rushing through him. The giant thing in his ass made him horny, and the egg pushing up against his hole filled him with an indescribable neediness.

His eyes flew open and he stared at Ilric in horror. “That should get you feeling better,” Ilric said, and patted his head. Even that simple action sent sparks of pleasure through him that had Lance moaning. “Much better,” Ilric added, nodding their head with a smile.

Then the egg pushed into his ass, and Lance screamed as pain shot through him, only to be overpowered by pleasure-filled-euphoria. He heard voices talking above him, but everything had gone fuzzy beside tentacle around his dick, the limb up his ass, and the egg that it was currently depositing into him.

Another pressed up against his ass, pushing through his gaping hole and sending Lance into another round of screaming pleasure. His back arched and his eyes rolled back as he came and then immediately got hard again.

There was no time to recover as another egg was pushed through, leaving Lance shaking and sobbing, pain and overstimulation making themselves known but completely overpowered by pleasure. Ilric was merciless, another egg nudging at his entrance almost immediately afterword.

He didn’t know how many eggs he took, a haze of neediness and pleasure and pain and overstimulation stealing over him. He thought that he might have passed out at some point, but he had no way of knowing. He might have just lost time in the pleasure.

Whatever it was, Ilric hadn’t waited for him and by the time he felt some clarity edging back into his mind, his abdomen _ached_ and the feeling of fullness made him want to throw up. Yet he could still feeling desire and need singing through his veins, and the egg pushing at his rim was making his cock hard all over again.

It was after he’d fallen into another painful dry orgasm, unable to even choke out a scream with his hoarse, broken voice, that he heard voices again. It took a moment for him to focus his fuzzy brain, but he eventually recognized the faint voice as Silaa.

“-en given a special quest from Grand Emperor Ilric. It will determine whether Voltron is acceptable as an ally.” They sounded far away, as though they were in the other room.

“Well, I’ll help him. Where is he? I want to talk to him.” Lance couldn’t focus well, but he recognized that voice and his eyes flew wide. Hunk. He could help him, he could save Lance from this, right?

Before he could call out, the tentacle was suddenly back at his mouth and shoving in harshly. He let out a muffled whine that just caused Ilric to chuckle quietly. He felt more of that accursed fluid spilling down his throat, and then he felt his body going lax again.

Silaa’s reply came as though through a haze, far-off and slipping further. “Lance has already left I’m afraid. Grand Elder Ilric has retired for rest. You may speak with them at daybreak.”

There was a shuffling, and then a quiet acquiesce and then the closing of the door sounded. Distantly, Lance wanted to cry at how close he’d been, but that impulse was quickly fading under the haze of lust and need that was quickly spreading through him.

He lost himself again, helpless to do anything but moan out at the pleasure being introduced to him. The rumbling of voices was there again, close now, but his ears had been stuffed with wool and all he could hear was the sounds of his own gasps and cries as yet another egg was fed into his body followed by a cool gush of liquid.

Then, abruptly, the tentacle slipped out of him, the absence pulling him back sharply from where he’d been floating. He couldn’t help the keen he let out as a feeling of emptiness so acute that it felt like a physical wound shot through him. Ilric’s tentacles caressed his hair yet again.

“It was most unfortunate that the Paladins friend had to arrive when they did,” they said, although Lance’s floundering brain detected no regret in their tone. “To quiet them, I had to give another dose so late in the coupling. Alas, I am now out of eggs.”

The words gave Lance relief for a split-second, before his body apparently caught up to what his brain had realised and the pain increased tenfold. He let out another cry as his head dropped back, the pain too much as his body yearned to be bred.

Ilric cooed and petted him again. “I am sorry, little one. It must be painful.” They paused, and when they continued, their voice had taken on an excited tone. “Perhaps Silaa can help, and deposit some of their eggs into you.”

Lance immediately shook his head in denial. He hadn’t wanted this, and he didn’t want even more aliens to use him this way. But even as he refused, another shot of pain so strong that tears spilled down his cheeks rocked through him. It faded away slightly, but then was back with a vengeance, coming harder and faster the longer he was not being bred.

Ilric shifted, and then nodded. “Very well,” they said. “Silaa, we shall take leave. I will rest in another pool whilst the eggs propagate.

They both turned to leave, and Lance felt as though he were being ripped apart from the inside. The pain was too much, it was going to kill him! He was barely in possession of his faculties when he opened his mouth to call them back, and all that came out was a drawn out cry that was ignored by the two aliens.

Lance sobbed in fear and agony as the pain continued increasing, the relief when it waned lessening with each ebb. He didn’t want it, but he couldn’t stop himself any longer.

“Please,” he whimpered. Ilric paused immediately, but they took their time turning to look at him. By that point, he was shaking violently and could no longer see them for the tears in his eyes. “Please,” he repeated in a croak.

Ilric crossed back over to him in an agonizing two tics, and then a slick tentacle was cradling his face again. “Please what, little one?” They asked. When he didn’t – couldn’t – answer, they cocked their head to the side. “Would you like Silaa to gift you their eggs?” They asked.

Lance sobbed in relief and dismay, hating himself for the desperation in his weak nods. “Please,” he whispered again, closing his eyes and crying as the pain overwhelmed him. Ilric bent over him, tentacles wrapping around his back and pulling his upper body into a slick hug.

“It is okay little one. Silaa will give you your purpose,” they said, and Lance hated himself a little more.

Silaa moved in then, their own tentacles already quite slick as they explored over Lance’s body. They didn’t waste much time, thankfully, and Lance sobbed out in relief when another huge, stiff limb nudged at his hole.

“Wait,” Ilric interrupted right as it was about to push in. Lance whined, writhing in pain. Why were they stopping? Ilric cupped his face and forced him to meet their eyes, looking down at him with cruel delight playing in their eyes. “You ought to thank Silaa for helping you, little one.” They said with gleeful malice.

Lance stared at them in horror, and they met his gaze steadily. “They are doing you a favour, little one. If you cannot show gratitude, perhaps you don’t deserve it.”

The thought of thanking Silaa for fucking him and using him as an incubator made him want to throw up. But the pain was still mounting, and he was getting to the point where he wasn’t sure how it hadn’t killed him yet. Self-loathing drowned him as he squeezed his eyes shut and forced out the words in a quiet whimper; “Th-Thank you for your help.”

Both aliens let out that pleased burbling noise, and then Ilric was sliding back and Silaa was shoving into him forcefully. Lance moaned, wiggling his hips needily as he tried to draw them in deeper. It alleviated the emptiness somewhat, but it wasn’t nearly enough. He needed the eggs, he had to be bred.

The relief that came with the first egg pushing in was like euphoria, and the pleasure that coupled with it drove Lance immediately to orgasm. He fell, boneless, against the cushions below him as Silaa gave a contemplative bubbling hum.

“You truly are quite something,” Silaa said. “It seems that you were made to be coupled.”

Shame slammed into Lance’s chest and coloured his cheeks, and he turned his face away. Silaa simply laughed and shoved in harshly, another egg causing Lance’s body to sing with pleasure. The familiar haze was creeping back around his mind, but it was less strong this time and held no relief from his horrified mind.

He couldn’t escape his disgust at how much his body liked this, there was no getting away from the cold nausea each time a new egg made his throat gasp and cry in pleasure. He felt irrevocably used, a container for their progeny to be used up and thrown away.

The pain was beginning to infringe on his consciousness now too, the tight fullness of his belly and the rough thrusting from Silaa making themselves known beyond the weakening haze of pleasure. It was nothing next to the agony of emptiness from earlier, though, and Lance hated how that was a relief.

He counted twenty more eggs before Silaa also finished with a rush of cool liquid. By this time, the haze was almost completely gone, leaving Lance with little but the self-disgust that made him want to vomit. He stared blankly up at the high, domed ceiling as Silaa pulled out with a pleased sigh, not moving as fluid gushed out of his twitching hole and soaked the pillows on which he lay.

A tentacle rubbed over his tight, round belly, and he whimpered as the slight pressure exacerbated the soreness. He shut his eyes and sobbed.

“Fetch an aide,” said Ilric, “Nutrients must be administered and they will need to be monitored.”

Silaa burbled an affirmative, and then left with a quiet swishing sound. Ilric drew closer, and Lance opened his eyes to see them hovering over him, looking at him intently.

“I confess that I enjoyed this more than I had expected,” they said, tracing their eyes down his body. “Should you ever have anything further to negotiate, I would be willing to make another such trade.”

Lance could do nothing but close his eyes and bite back another sob. There was nothing that they could need that would make him go through this again. Ilriic laughed, petting his hair yet again.

“Oh, but I get ahead of myself,” they said. “Your time is not yet up. I look forward to you birthing my young, little one.”

Lance’s shudder was lost in the sound of the door opening once more, and Ilric turned away to greet the newcomer. They conversed, too quietly for Lance to hear, and then Ilric left.

The new alien turned to him, and Lance watched with frightened eyes as they drew closer. He tried to sit up, but new tentacles pushed at his shoulders and kept him down. “Do not fear little one,” said the newcomer. “I am called Ota. You will be in my care over the remainder of your stay. Please inform me of anything I can do to improve your comfort, and I will take it under consideration.”

Lance stared at him for a moment before turning his face to the ceiling with a quiet, bitter laugh. Improve his comfort. Sure. He squeezed his eyes shut again. “I don’t want this,” he whispered. “Please take them out.”

Another tentacle was at his hair, and he pulled away from it reflexively. “Don’t,” he whimpered.

“Sorry little one, I cannot remove the eggs,” said Ota.

Lance sobbed and turned away. “Then go away,” he said. There was no response from behind him, but there was no _swish-swish_ of Ota leaving either.

Instead, a fluffy blanket settled over him, scattering some of the chill of the cold room from his damp skin. He hated how insufficient the comfort it brought felt, like a band-aid trying to be tacked over a gaping wound. “I don’t want this,” he repeated. Ota didn’t reply.

The silence that fell then was oppressive, but Lance couldn’t bring himself to break it. He curled in on himself, tucking around where his belly stuck out, horrifically round and hard. The fullness was painful and uncomfortable, and it was hard to even attempt sleep around the ache it created.

He must still have drifted off, however, because next he knew he was blinking awake to soft, dappled light and the sound of knocking. He shifted, turning his head to face the door but suddenly a mass of slime and tentacles was blocking his way.

He flinched back in panic, but a steel grip caught him and tipped his head back, and before he could fight it off, a thick tube was being fed down his throat. He tried to thrash, but strong tentacles held him down again, his protests muffled around the thick tube. A thick glop started sliding from the tube down his throat, making him want to throw up again.

Distantly, a door slid opened and he heard Ilric’s voice; “Yellow Paladin. To what do I owe this visit?”

Lance’s eyes widened and he struggled further, trying to call out to his friend. But the tube muffled his cries, and all that came out were pathetic whimpers. His eyes filled with frustrated tears as Hunk answered, oblivious to his best friend’s dilemma.

“I’m looking for Lance. You called him last night, where is he?” His voice was also hostile, and Lance wondered if maybe he wouldn’t just barge in and come looking for him.

Ilric replied in clipped tones. “Yes, they were summoned for a test. To prove Voltron’s worth as allies. They-”

“Why him?” interrupted Hunk, obstinate. “We’re a team. If you wanted to know Voltron’s worth, we would be better sent as a unit.”

Ilric’s voice turned even colder. “None but the Blue Paladin impressed me. If not for them, you would have no alliance.” A lull followed, in which Lance closed his eyes and wondered how the Kiyri had become so far removed from what was happening in the universe. He hated it, hated that it had led him to this situation.

He wished he had said no, left them to fend for themselves. But even as he thought that, guilt rose in him. The entire planet should not suffer because their Elder was a fool. But why did Lance have to be the one to pay the price?  

At length, Hunk spoke again. “Where is he?” He asked, sounding as though he were forcing the words out through gritted teeth.

“That is beyond my knowledge,” Ilric lied. “Although this task usually takes three of your…quintants I believe.” Lance sobbed, almost choking on the goop being fed to him. No, no he didn’t want to wait that long. He wanted them out now, today. His belly felt too full, too tight, and it was painful. His stomach was starting to cramp with them and this slime he was being forced to eat.

“You Paladins are welcome to stay and enjoy our hospitalities until they return,” Ilric said with finality. “We will extend this party in your honour. Please, inform the rest of your team.”

There was a pause, before Hunk huffed out a “Fine,” and then he was gone and the sound of the door shutting again left Lance in tears.

Ota gently withdrew the tube, some violently purple goop dribbling out across his face as it pulled away. He whimpered in discomfort as they wiped it with a warm cloth, ignoring the way he flinched. “There there little one. I am sorry I did not explain before I fed you, but I was informed to keep you silent in the event of your little friends visiting.

“This is a nutritious combination that is vital for the health of the eggs. It will be your food until they are birthed. You will fed approximately every four of your varga. We will also remove your waste via a separate tube. You are not to leave this nest, for the safety of the eggs.”

Lance stared at them in horror, feeling more like some kind of sick science experiment than a person. They paid him no mind, instead wrapping tentacles around him and turning him onto his back. “I will now check the condition of the eggs,” they said, and before he could react a tentacle shoved unceremoniously up his ass.

He let out a choked gasp, tears spilling from his eyes without his permission as the thankfully slim tentacle shoved in without preamble until he could feel it moving around with the eggs in his gut. “No, please,” he begged, but it fell on deaf ears as Ota continued to move the tentacle around, presumably feeling the eggs inside him.

The opening of a door much closer caught his ear, and a teary glance at the door showed Ilric gliding toward them.

“How is my little brooder doing?” They asked, drawing up to watch Ota work.

“Let me go,” Lance pleaded around his tears and gasps. Ilric ignored him completely, looking to Ota expectantly.

“Physically they are doing well,” Ota said, ignoring Lance’s jerking. “They slept a full human sleep cycle without requiring sedative, and they took their first feeding well.” They glanced at Lance, who was still begging quietly and crying and then added, “They seem to be in distress.”

Ilric nodded, unsurprised. “Their species seems highly affected during coupling. I expect that their emotions are high.”

Lance’s protest was lost to a choked inhalation as Ota suddenly shifted an egg, causing a sharp twinge of pain to shoot through him. Ilric looked pleased.

“You are doing well Ota. I will leave them to you. I must prepare to attend to this party for their little friends.” They turned to leave. “Send Silaa to fetch me should any complications arise.”

“No,” Lance cried out, seeing them leaving. “No please! _Please!_ Let me , please, please, _por favor-”_

But his only answer was the shutting of the door.

 

If not for the scheduled feedings, Lance would have completely lost track of time. He wasn’t allowed to move from the nest for the sake of the eggs – although with his heavy, aching belly, he didn’t think that he’d manage if he tried – so instead he laid there with nothing to do but doze fitfully.

He’d hoped that as time passed, he would get used to the fullness of his stomach and it would hurt less, but it never happened. If anything, the ache only seemed to grow incrementally, spurred on every time Ota callously shoved a tentacle up his ass to check on and reposition them.

Ilric came in sometimes, although they rarely spoke to him. They would usually discuss his progress with Ota and then watch him unsettlingly for far too long. Lance had long since given up trying to plead with them, and now just shut his eyes and turned his face away. He didn’t want to see that lustful hunger on their face.

The worst times were when his non-interaction irritated them, and they would goad him with how much the Paladins seemed to be enjoying the party and how pleased Allura was with the alliance. That still managed to get tears despite Lance’s best efforts, although he kept them quiet now. Ilric was pleased by them regardless.

Those times, he would sit and coo, holding Lance’s head in place with one tentacle while another rubbed through his hair, making him shudder and cry harder. They often also stroked a tentacle over his stuffed belly, making him whimper from the painful pressure.

Most of the time Ilric was gone, though, off to see to his guests, and Lance was left alone, round and sore and itchy with dried slime and cum. He’d thought to ask Ota to clean it off, but the casual invasiveness of the alien made him loathe to invite any contact. He just bore it, another burden that paled nextd to his true problem.

 

Seven meals passed before he noticed his belly was _growing_. It was small, barely noticeable, but after one of his painful “egg-positioning” he tried to curl up on his favourite pillow and found that his belly didn’t quite fit any longer. Panicked, he asked Ota what was happening, and Ota burbled happily in response.

“The eggs are growing. They grow strong in the brooder, and then are passed to finish their development in a slime pool. You are doing well little one,” they told him, and Lance wasn’t able to hold back his crying.

It was just his luck that Ilric decided to visit that day. When Ota told them what the problem was, they delighted in cuddling Lance close to their cold, slimy body and telling him what a good brooder he was. They massaged his belly painfully, and told him around his cries how he was built for this.

Ilric left some varga later, leaving Lance curled around his cramping belly and moaning from pain. Ota asked again what they could do for Lance, but when he begged they take the eggs out, they just burbled out a laugh and did nothing.

 

Lance stopped counting the meals. It no longer seemed important, nothing did, except the agonizing fullness that stretched out his belly too far. He didn’t know how long he’d been curled in the same position, only that moving hurt and he didn’t want to do it anymore.

The last time Ota had tried to feed him had been agonizing, and he’d thrown up almost immediately afterwards. Ota had cooed happily and told him that he was getting ready for the birthing process. Lance felt more as though he were getting ready to die.

Ota was busy now, preparing a small tub that they were filling with some sort of viscous slime. Lance had tried to watch them, but sitting up caused agony to run up his spine and down his legs and all throughout his body, so he’d laid down and just listened to them sloshing about.

He didn’t know how long he lay there, biting back sobs of pain and fear, until suddenly he felt something move within him. He bit back a gasp – it _hurt_ – as he felt what had to be an egg drop lower into his gut.

And then it was pushing into his passage, and he couldn’t hold back a cry. It was so big! Much bigger than it had been going in, and over the past few days it his passage had tightened up somewhat. It was too big to get very far by itself, and he had to push to get it moving again. But the burn and stretch were agony, and he almost wanted it back in his belly to save him from this pain.

Ota was there a moment later, lifting his legs until his asshole was winking up at him and pouring a large vial of some slick slime into his hole. He wondered if, like the alien cum, it would make this more pleasurable; he was both relieved and disappointed when no wash of ecstasy stole away the pain

It did help with the egg, however. He still had to push, hard, but it was smoother going as it moved through him again.

Ilric came in just as the egg reached his rim, moving over and settling in to watch with hungry eyes. Lance flushed, shamed at more people witnessing him straining, chest heaving and beaded with sweat, to try and push out the egg.

It finally popper free with a wet _shluck,_ rolling out onto the cushions where Ota whisked it away to drop into the prepared tub. Lance exhaustedly turned his head to look at it even as another egg dropped inside him, and his eyes widened in shock and how _big_ it was. Bigger than his fist. And he had how many more? Oh hell.

By the fifth egg, he was exhausted. It took a lot of work from him to push them, through his body and then out of his hole. They varied in size, some smaller and easier and some so large that it took several dobosh for him to push them out. His ass ached, his legs ached, his back and abdomen ached, and he just wanted to sleep. He had already lost the fight against tears.

The eggs weren’t giving him rest though. They were coming faster now, the next one dropping before the previous one had made it all the way out. Gone was the moment of rest. Now all there was were eggs, and pushing, and pain.

A tentacle touched at his head suddenly, causing him to flinch, and then it was pushing through his hair. ‘ _Ilric,’_ his hazy brain supplied. The rush of disgust that followed felt muted though. He had no energy to be disgusted. He was tired and sore, and the cool tentacle was somehow soothing in that moment.

He didn’t think he would make it through all of the eggs. Each one that he pushed out, he was sure would be the last. His body would give up, collapse from exhaustion and just be _unable_ to push any longer. But each time, it managed just one more time.

Lance wasn’t sure how long he had been at it, or how many eggs he’d pushed out, before finally, _finally_ , he was clenching and pushing on air. Ota patted his leg and Ilric praised him for how well he had done. He closed his eyes, exhausted. He was done, he was finally done. This nightmare was over.

Then Ilric was pulling him to his feet, shoving him gently out of the cushion nest. Lance whimpered, his entire body protesting the movement. He hurt all over, and he wanted nothing more than to just _sleep_.

Ilric laughed at him. “Come little one, you have one your alliance,” they said. “Go on and share in the good news with your Paladins. I’m sure they will be eager to see you back victorious from your ‘quest’. Silaa is waiting to escort you.”

Lance couldn’t keep in his whimpering as Silaa dragged him down the hall. They hadn’t brought any clothes, and he didn’t know where the ones he’d come here in were. There was no way that he’d be able to sneak into the room they’d been given and get some without the team noticing. He didn’t know how to hide this.

Silaa gave a cruel shove when he hesitated and he stumbled, naked trembling, toward the door. He caught himself against it, crying and ashamed. How was he supposed to let them see him like this?

He wasn’t given any choice, however, as Silaa opened the door and unceremoniously pushed him into the room. He fell harshly onto his knees with a cry of pain. Gasps echoed around the room, and he looked up shamefully into the horrified faces of his teammates.


End file.
